


You're The One That I Love and I'm Saying Goodbye

by intrepidheart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Sam, Character Death, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Requited Unrequited Love, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:51:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3588579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intrepidheart/pseuds/intrepidheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was sick. He had been for years. But he had always managed to hide his affections, keep them under lock and key because, God, was it sick. To want your own brother? To have to force yourself to look away when he stepped out from a shower, skin still dewy from the steam? To grit your teeth and smile when he recounted his latest conquest of the week and listen to the dirty details of just how wild she was in the sack? None of that was normal. Yet when has Sam Winchester ever had a semblance of normality in his life?</p><p>Or the fic where Sam is going to die and Dean would do anything for his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're The One That I Love and I'm Saying Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note to say that I based this off of season 2 Sam and Dean, before the season finale. The deal that Sam makes is unable to be changed again - aka Dean can't offer his life in exchange for Sam's. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The Impala rumbled to a halt in the parking space in front of the motel, the keys barely out of the ignition before Dean hauled himself out of the passenger side and slammed the door. Sam sighed, watching Dean pace back and forth on his side of the car through the window. Well this wasn’t going to get any easier. Sam opened his door, the familiar squeak making the corner of his mouth twitch up into a smile. It hit him then that it was the small things he was going to miss.

They were just coming back from a situation that had gone wrong in every possible way that a situation could go wrong. During one of their last hunts, Dean got hurt. Badly hurt. A shapeshifter had overtaken Dean and turned his own knife against him, pushing the knife into Dean's chest until it had actually grazed his heart. Sam showed up just in time and killed it, but the damage was done. Sam had panicked, knowing there was no way a hospital could help him in time, what with Dean choking out blood on the backseat of his beloved Impala. And then he had remembered passing by a crossroads on the way into town. Sam, college boy, book smart Sam, decided that the best course of action was to summon a crossroads demon to save Dean. Of course, there was a price to pay - Sam's own life for his brother's. The deal was sealed with a kiss. The hellhounds would come for Sam tomorrow at dawn, giving the brothers one final night together. Their time was so short because Dean was already living on borrowed time, and to get a second free pass came at an even higher price. 

Dean hadn't said a word the entire drive back to the motel, just stared at his blood soaked shirt and placed his fingers on the smooth plane of skin over his heart where a gaping wound had been just moments before. Sam had driven back, as tense as a drawn bow string as he waited for his brother to berate him in his usual manner, shouting about how insane Sam must be to give his life for Dean. But nothing had left Dean's mouth, not yet, and Sam wasn't quite sure why.

“C’mon, Dean, let’s just go inside,” Sam stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

“I’m trying to fight the urge to beat the living crap out of you right now, Sam!” Dean finally shouted, slamming his hand on the roof of the Impala, making Sam jump.

“Do it,” Sam said genuinely. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

“Don’t tempt me!” Dean stormed over to the motel door and fished the key from his jacket pocket. He opened the door and glared at Sam until the younger brother shook his head and squeezed past him in the doorway to get into the room.

Sam eased himself down onto the couch before letting out a wry laugh.

“Something funny there, Sammy?” Dean’s gruff voice snapped as he slammed the door shut and threw the chain.

“It’s just ironic, isn’t it?” Sam let himself slide down into a more comfortable position, long legs taking up every available inch of space on the cushions. “After all the monsters we’ve fought, after all of the fights over the years… after everything, this is finally it.”

“You shut the hell up right now!” Dean barked, stabbing a finger at his younger brother. “This isn’t over. I’m gonna save you, Sam, don’t you think anything different!”

“Not this time, Dean.” Sam said it as he let out a sigh, his head lolling over the arm of the couch. He stared at the ceiling, trying to find shapes in the stucco. 

Dean swore colorfully, kicking a chair clear across the room with a loud clatter. Sam didn’t even lift his head. Instead he closed his eyes and waited for the sound – there it was. The mini fridge opening and closing as Dean pulled out the case of beer he had been saving for when they finished the hunt. The sweet kiss of air that meant Dean had opened a bottle and the clink of the empty glass on the side table between the two queen beds which indicated that Dean had finished the bottle in one long pull.

“I’m the one dying here. Think you could bring me a beer?” Sam asked. He was met with a sharp smack on his forehead. “Ow!” He sat up, scowling at his brother as best as he could. He couldn’t be mad at Dean, not now. Not when the fear of leaving his brother behind in this shit show of a world was carving a hole in his gut. Not when his stupid, stupid heart was still kicking bruises in his chest at the sight of Dean so close to him, sitting at the edge of the coffee table that was directly in front of the couch Sam was on.

Sam was sick. He had been for years. But he had always managed to hide his affections, keep them under lock and key because, God, was it sick. To want your own brother? To have to force yourself to look away when he stepped out from a shower, skin still dewy from the steam? To grit your teeth and smile when he recounted his latest conquest of the week and listen to the dirty details of just how wild she was in the sack? None of that was normal. Yet when has Sam Winchester ever had a semblance of normality in his life?

“Here, bitch.” Dean shoved a beer bottle into Sam’s hands, already halfway through his second one.

“Thanks…” Sam twisted the cap off, tossing it next to his brother. “Jerk.”

Their gazes met for a brief moment, and Sam had to be seeing things because those couldn't possibly be tears in Dean’s eyes.

“Dean–“ Sam’s voice cracked slightly, lowering the bottle from his mouth when he was just about to take a sip. He wanted to apologize, to explain why he did it. To explain that he couldn't live with himself for the rest of his life knowing that he let his brother and the love of his life die in front of him when he could have done something about it.

“We aren’t doing this. None of that touchy-feely crap that you always try to pull on me. Got it? Because I’m gonna fix your stupid mistake.” Dean was staring hard at the peeling motel wallpaper now, his fingers turning white with the force he was holding his bottle. “I’m gonna fix it.”

Sam closed his eyes and downed a good three-quarters of his bottle to get the image of Dean’s fingers, and to get the reminder that he would never get the chance to feel them the way he wanted to, out of his head. Now was definitely not the time.

“Okay, Dean,” Sam said, playing into Dean’s over-protective big brother complex. “We’ll fix it. We’ll find a way.”

“Damn straight.” Dean muttered into the mouth of his bottle, meeting Sam’s eyes as he tipped it up and finished the rest of it. Sam’s eyes slipped to Dean’s lips wrapped around the brown glass, his heart kicking violently again just from the sight. Clearing his throat, Sam forced himself to stand up on shaking legs and make his way to the case of beer, grabbing several with his deft fingers to bring them back to the table Dean was sitting on.

“Can we take the night off, at least? I really need to be drunk right now.” Sam cracked a half-assed smile at his brother, hoping he wouldn’t storm out or go on about calling people and finding connections or leads to something that would undoubtably not be able to reverse the damage done tonight. 

Dean opened his mouth and Sam winced because here it comes, this is where he screams "Why, Sammy, why did you do this?" and Sam would have to say that he's in love with his brother. Instead, out came “Yeah, Sammy. We can do that.”

Sam’s stomach dropped to his feet as he heard his nickname fall from Dean’s mouth. It was his favorite term of endearment that only Dean was allowed to say. Whenever anyone else tried to say it, it just slid across his skin like sandpaper. It felt wrong. The only place that it made sense, the only place that made it feel like home, was coming from Dean’s lips.

“Thanks.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back tears that he couldn’t let fall just yet.

“C’mon, man, pull yourself together. You have to catch up to me, you slacker.” Dean grabbed two bottles from the table and yanked the caps off both, making a show of shoving both in his mouth and chugging them back. Sam looked up at the ceiling with a blush staining his cheeks, half to pray to God to give him strength and half to decide whether he wanted to force that image of Dean out of his head or keep it locked up in a mental safe to pull for future reference.

“Gimme one of those,” Sam snatched one from his brother’s mouth, causing him to spit his mouthful of beer onto the floor below. “Nice. Real nice.”

“Now look what you made me do!” Dean wiped his mouth with his jacket sleeve before shrugging it off and tossing it onto the fallen chair that was by the wall. Dean paused, his eyes finding his blood soaked shirt again. "I gotta go change."

Sam sat back on the couch as Dean left to change his shirt. When he came back, he handed the last few beer from the box to Sam.

Sam just started laughing and shaking his head.

“To get to the level of drunk that I want to be, I think we’re gonna need more than a few beer.” Sam pushed his hair out of his eyes.

“Already ahead of you.” Dean made his way back over to his bed, reached between the wall and the headboard and produced a full bottle of whiskey. He raised his eyebrows a few times with his usual shit-eating grin, making Sam laugh harder.

“Perfect.” Sam nodded, watching Dean gather two glasses from the cupboard, giving into his desire to run his eyes over the entirety of Dean, just for a moment, to soak in his brother. God, he was gonna miss him.

“Alright,” Dean returned, dragging over the only other chair they had to sit opposite Sam with the table between them, thumping the whiskey and glasses down behind the beer. “Time to play some games.”

Sam’s eyes flicked up to meet Dean’s, confusion evident until Dean whipped out a pack of cards.

“Drinking games? Really?”

“Why the hell not?” Dean dumped the cards into his palm, struggling to shuffle them in an orderly fashion.

“Give me those.” Sam leaned over with a roll of his eyes, snatching the cards out of Dean’s hands to start to shuffle them properly.

“Sure. Gives me more time to drink.”  Dean took another swig from his bottle as Sam dealt out the cards to start H Bomb, a drinking game he’d learned while he was at college.

The following hours that ensued included colorful swearing from Dean every time he lost, an explosion of cards when Dean swiped them all off the table in a rage and the entire room filling with the brothers’ laughter.

Eventually they both ended up on the couch, Sam’s legs supported by the coffee table as Dean’s draped over his thighs. Their heads were on opposite arms of the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

“Stop everything from spinning, Sammy,” Dean slurred, one arm covering his face.

“Wish I could,” Sam groaned, trying to sit up. A wave of dizziness hit him like a Mack truck and sent him back to the arm of the couch.

“What a mess we’re in. Again.” Dean sighed.

“Yeah. Again.” Sam rubbed his eyes.

A few moments of silence lapsed between them. Sam closed his eyes and just let himself bask in the feeling of overwhelming heat that was eminating from Dean’s legs on top of his own.

“What would you do? If it was your last day on Earth, what would you do with the time that you had left?” Dean piped up from the other end of the couch.

“Today is my last day on Earth, Dean.” Sam opened his eyes, feeling a stray tear slip down the side of his face. He wiped it away angrily.

“No it isn’t. This is rhetorical.” Dean’s voice floated to Sam’s ears, and Sam smiled at the unmistakeable tone of denial in his brother’s words.

“Right. Rhetorical.” Sam let out a big sigh, his lips flapping noisily.

“Yeah. What would you do?”

Sam struggled to breathe calmly and evenly. Truthfully? The first thing he would do would be to tell Dean everything. How much Sam admired him, to thank him for every time Dean’s saved his ass and for being pretty much the only constant thing Sam has ever known in his life. He'd tell Dean how much he loved him. Both in the brotherly way and the sick way. Sam couldn’t go to Hell knowing that he had never been able to tell Dean the truth. Even though it would undoubtably be the most terrifying moment in his entire life, Sam knew he had to say it. He just didn’t know how.

“You first.” Sam choked out.

“I’d be spending it with my baby brother. Bobby too, and Jo and Ellen. We’d be at Bobby’s – no, the Roadhouse. Just drinking beers and catching up on all the good times. Ellen would probably toss a bottle at my head or somethin’, I’m still not sure she likes me too much-”

Sam forced himself to sit up, staring at his brother in shock. The words he’d imagined would leave Dean’s mouth included something about the world’s biggest bachelor pad and a hundred hot women hanging off his arms. Probably a lot of booze too.

Dean repositioned his head on the arm of the chair, throwing a weird look right back at Sam. “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing, it just… that sounds nice.” Sam’s heart tugged as tears filled his eyes.

“Yeah, it does. Your turn.” Dean sat up too, pulling his legs off of Sam’s to place his feet on the floor. He put his elbows on his knees and knitted his hands together, resting his forehead against them. “What would you do on your last day?”

Sam scratched at the back of his head, taking his legs off the table.

"I'd be doing this." Sam turned his head to look at Dean, who lifted his head, meeting Sam's gaze. "I'd be doing exactly what we're doing right now."

"Just hanging out with your cool older brother? You do that every day." Dean snorted.

"We don't just hang out. We hunt. But this... this is it. It's what I'd want to do on my last day." Sam swallowed with difficulty. This and pinning you to the couch.

Dean just stared at Sam in silence, his jaw tightening and untightening in his agitation.

The electricity that slipped down Sam's spine told him that it was time. And it was.

"Why'd you do it, Sammy?" Dean forced out through gritted teeth.

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line, palms breaking out into a cold sweat.

"Why?"

Sam stood up abruptly, rubbing his face vigorously before shoving both hands through his hair as he started to make his way to the bathroom. He felt like he was going to be sick.

"Hey!" Dean snapped, boots thumping on the floor as he followed Sam's retreating back.

Sam spun around and threw his hands up, frustration, confusion and heartbreak and every other conceivable emotion roiling in his stomach like a melting pot.

"I can't, Dean! I can't tell you! I can't ruin the last moment we have together!" Sam said, voice strained.

"Ruin the - what the hell are you talking about?" 

Sam let out a noise, turning away to try to go into the bathroom to prepare himself to puke when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and slammed him into the wall.

"Dean, what the hell?!" Sam yelled before getting a solid punch to the jaw, his vision going white for a split second.

"TELL ME!" Dean roared in Sam's face, his fists bunched in the cloth of Sam's cotton shirt. 

"You're never gonna want to speak to me again, Dean," Sam said in an eerily calm tone. "And that's not how I want to spend the rest of the time that we have together."

"Are you insane? You're my brother, you're everything I have left in the world, man!" The pained look on Dean's face made Sam's heart ache. "Now you got us into this stupid situation, the least you could do is explain what the hell you were thinking, Sam!"

"That's exactly it, Dean! You're my brother!" Sam swiftly twisted Dean's hands from his shirt before shoving Dean's chest so hard he stumbled backwards. "My _brother_ , Dean! But I love you!" The words were out and it felt like the weight of the entire world had been lifted from his shoulders.

But Dean's confused expression made that weight settle back down on him. "I love you too, man?"

"No, Dean, you don't get it," Sam let out a wry laugh, letting his head thunk back against the wall. "I _love_ you. I am  _in love_ with you, you idiot."

Everything sort of just stopped. Sam's heart stopped, time stopped, everything stopped as Sam watched Dean's face work through a myriad of expressions. Sam was watching to see disgust, abhorrence, or just plain fear. The waiting was too much and he let himself slide down the wall and collapse to the floor, holding his head in his hands. Without waiting to hear what excuse Dean was going to use to get out of the motel room and away from his sick little brother, the explanation just crawled out of Sam's mouth, choking him with tears and bile.

"You've done everything for me. You've looked out for me my entire life. You were always there when Dad was gone for days on end, you were there for parent-teacher conferences, for girl problems I had. Always making sure I had enough food to eat before going to school. Even when Jess died, you didn't leave me. You stayed. You were always,  _always_ looking out for me. I can watch your back on hunts, but it's never the same. I never thought that there would ever be a chance to be able to do for you what you've done for me ever since I was born. So I knew there was no turning back when you got hurt today. There was no way some doctor was going to be able to save you, and you were dying, Dean." Sam finally looked up, tears streaking his cheeks. "You were dying and I knew that I could finally do something. I could finally give you life, because I sure as hell know that I wouldn't be able to go on living if I had just let you die."

"And what am I gonna do when you're gone, huh?" Dean collapsed to his knees in front of Sam, taking his shoulders and shaking him violently. "What am I supposed to do when you're dragged off to Hell?!"

"I'll never forgive you if you use this as a way to self-destruct, Dean," Sam grabbed the collar of Dean's shirt. "This isn't your fault. I made this decision. And I'm gonna be fine-"

"Fine?! You're gonna be tracked down by hellhounds and pulled off to  _Hell_ , Sammy. How does that fall under the definition of 'fine'?" 

"Please, Dean," Sam begged, letting his shirt go to cover his face. "I told you, I told you I didn't want to spend our last hours together like this."

For a moment, all Sam heard was Dean's heaving breaths. Then he was being forcefully dragged back up the wall to a standing position. Sam dropped his hands, meeting Dean's eyes.

"How do you want to spend our last hours together, Sam?" Dean's face was blank but his gaze was so intense that the hairs stood up on Sam's arms. 

"I told you-"

"No, Sam," Dean shook Sam once, lightly. "Spit it out. The truth. Your deepest desire in the world. How do you want to spend our last hours together?"

Sam's heart twisted in his chest and he lost his breath. Dean couldn't be saying what Sam thought he was saying... There's no way. Sam was speechless, his mouth hanging open in shock at his brother's words. Dean let out a frustrated noise, lurching forward to slam his lips against Sam's before he knew what was happening. Sam's skin exploded, every nerve, every single fibre of his entire being was lit on fire and burning as all his thoughts focused on the fact that Dean's lips were touching his. Not touching - crushing. Sam couldn't move an inch of his body but he didn't have to, because Dean was moving both of their mouths in a way that Sam had only dreamed about. 

Sam's lungs were aching, forcing him to finally pull a strong breath through his nose, as his mouth was currently occupied, and grabbed Dean's shoulders, shoving him away. Sam's heart wrenched, straining to bring his brother back to him because now Dean had finally touched him in the way he wanted. Dean was like a drug and Sam couldn't break the habit.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam's voice cracked on his brother's name.

"Isn't this what you want?" Dean stepped forward again, reaching for Sam's head to pull it down to him again but Sam blocked him.

"Dean,  _stop_!"

"Why, Sam?" Dean smacked Sam's arms away. "Why, if this is what you want and it's something I can give you before you die?"

Sam's breath left his lungs in a whoosh, taking his voice with it. 

"I'd do anything for you, Sammy," Dean's voice was shaking now, his eyes pleading. "Now you've gone and done this, so the least I can do is give you the best last few hours of your damn life."

"I couldn't ask that of you, Dean, not in a million years. It's enough that I was able to tell you. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to, please-"

"I want you to be happy, Sam," Dean cut him off. "I can give this to you. So shut the hell up and let me kiss you."

Sam didn't push Dean away this time when Dean reached up and threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling down so that their mouths could meet again. Part of Sam was still terrified that Dean would bolt if he touched him, because that would mean that this was really happening, so he balled his hands into fists and became a statue. Dean opened his mouth and bit Sam's bottom lip, pulling it back.

"Am I gonna be going at it with a corpse the whole time or are you gonna do something?" Dean growled. His grip tightened, making Sam's scalp tingle and his entire body shake.

Sam couldn't help but say it. "You have a lot of experience with kissing corpses?"

"Shut up." Dean attacked Sam's mouth once again, his hands dropping to grab Sam's hands instead. He worked his fingers through Sam's tense ones and made their hands fit together before bringing them up to slam them against the wall by Sam's head. "Why do you have to be so damn tall?"

That was the moment that Sam just let go. Dean was willing to do this and pretending that he wasn't going to reciprocate when this was Sam's literal dream come true was exhausting. Sam gripped Dean's hands tightly in his own and ducked his head down, his heart soaring as he finally started moving his mouth with Dean's. Dean's lips parted, letting Sam's tongue taste him, a mix of whiskey and beer that made Sam's breaths come even faster. Sam couldn't stop the groan from vibrating low in his throat. He felt Dean smile his cocky, signature Dean-smile into their kiss and slipped his hands away to grab the backs of Dean's thighs. Sam picked up his older brother, turned and slammed him against the wall, holding him there with his arms and by pinning his hips against Dean's. Dean let out a woof of breath, grabbing Sam's shoulders for support. 

"That's what I'm talkin' about, Sammy," Dean smirked at him, their faces now level with each other. 

Sam still couldn't believe that this was really happening. He paused, just staring at Dean, his eyes dancing from one to the other as he searched for any sign of reservation or fear. But there was nothing but a mix of love and lust, Dean's pupils blown wide as they stared back just as intensely. Sam jerked forward, latching his mouth onto Dean's neck. He kissed and bit his way down to the collar of Dean's shirt before finding Dean's pulsing vein, indicating a pounding heart, and sucking on it. The noise that came out of Dean's mouth just then went straight to Sam's dick, making him pant into Dean's skin. If Sam wasn't delusional, and he really felt like he was on the verge of insanity because he was literally pinning Dean to a wall, then he could feel Dean getting hard against his hipbone. 

"Fuck, Dean," Sam swore into his neck, inhaling the smell of old leather and mint that was so characteristically Dean.

"C'mon, Sam, bed. Now." Dean growled into his ear, nipping at the lobe. Sam didn't need to be told twice, hoisting his brother onto his hips and stumbling his way to the nearest bed. His knees hit the edge of the mattress, making him keel forward and drop Dean onto his back, who laughed once and kicked off his boots. Sam stopped, taking a moment to look down and just admire the view. Dean's chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes searching Sam's before he grabbed the bottom of Sam's shirt and jerked it up. "Off," he commanded, working the shirt up to Sam's shoulders. Sam obediently brought his arms up so Dean could slip it off before he did the same thing to Dean. The brass amulet that Sam gave him so long ago glinted in the motel light on Dean's smooth chest. Sam brought his hand to it, his shaking fingers tracing it before moving down to Dean's abdomen. His touch was reverent, hesitant. The quiver of muscles in response to his touch made Sam smile in disbelief and he slid back up to kiss Dean once more. 

They got lost in themselves, hands trembling in anticipation while working off articles of clothing and shoes until both were under the sheets and tangling their limbs as one. The kisses were fervent and heated, and neither of them stopped when they felt the tears slipping down Sam's cheeks. 

"It's gonna be okay, Sammy," Dean whispered, mouth tracing the salty line of the tear down to the base of Sam's throat. It was almost as if he knew what the endearing nickname did to Sam because he kept saying it. "We're gonna be okay."

"Just kiss me, Dean," Sam breathed, bringing Dean's face back to his. Sam's entire body was a connected system of tingling nerves that were over-sensitized and burned at every inch where Dean's skin met his own. Dean's fingers traced down Sam's spine, making him gasp into the kiss and curve towards his brother.

There was no awkward fumbling. Everything sort of just fell into place with Dean hovering over Sam's body, supporting his weight on his hands that were bracketed beside Sam's head.

"You're sure?" Sam couldn't help but ask, even after he had worked himself open and his entire body was shaking with want and need and complete, utter reverence for Dean. 

"I love you, Sam," Dean said, staring into his eyes. "That's the only sure thing that I know in this God forsaken place." 

Then they were one and both of them were swearing, because shit they never thought something this wrong could feel so incredibly right.

They moved together, in sync and listening for small indications of just where to touch or when the other needed to have the very air in their lungs kissed out of them. It was everything and more than Sam had ever dreamed, and when he crested the tidal wave of emotions that had been building all night, when he finally saw stars and couldn't remember how to draw in his next breath, he knew that everything had been worth it. If Dean would live to bring the amount of love and happiness that Sam felt to another human being, even for a moment, then everything would be worth it and Sam would be able to go in peace.

Dean rolled off of Sam, landing heavily beside him. The air was hot with their panting breaths, settling over them like an additional blanket. 

Sam let his head loll to his shoulder, watching Dean's chest rise and fall and the blush that stained his cheeks slowly start to fade away. 

"Holy shit," was the first thing out of Dean's mouth. Sam couldn't help but burst out laughing, covering his eyes with his arm as the tears started to well up again. 

This was the best night of his life. Undoubtedly, in the history of all Sam's years on this planet, this was the best one. What a shame it was that it also happened to be his last.

"What would Dad say if he could see us now, huh?" Dean joked, poking Sam's ribs with his elbow before noticing the arm slung over his brother's face. "Sam? You okay?" his tone changed to serious, now concerned. "Did I hurt you? Talk to me, man!"

"Fate has a really twisted sense of irony, that's all," Sam choked out. 

 "Sammy." It came out as a defeated sigh. "C'mon. Get up." Dean moved Sam's arm from his face and lifted him into a sitting position. "Let's go."

Sam allowed Dean to manoeuvre him into the bathroom and sit him in the bathtub. Dean started running the water, waiting for it to heat up before he turned on the shower. He angled the showerhead so it was hitting Sam's chest when he sat down behind Sam. Sam let his head fall onto Dean's shoulder and just appreciated the gentle, calloused touch of his brother's hands brushing soap along his skin. Sam's heart felt eight sizes too big with all the love that was building in his chest. Dean had put him first tonight, just like always, and there weren't enough words in the world to express the gratitude Sam held for him.

Dean cupped his hands and let the water collect there before letting it slip out over Sam's shoulders. Once Sam was clean, Dean wrapped him in a towel and retrieved clothes for the both of them. It was only when Dean had just finished pulling his shirt over his head that his eyes fell on the clock between the two beds. His heart plummeted to his feet. They only had a few hours left together. His chest tightened in fear.

"Sam, c'mere." Dean said urgently, gesturing to his brother who walked over and took the hand that Dean was offering. They settled onto the couch, shoulders touching, just comfortable being close to one another. "Sorry 'bout that." Dean thumbed the growing bruise on Sam's jaw that was blooming thanks to Dean's earlier punch.

"Oh. Didn't even feel it til now." Sam said thoughtfully, running his fingers over the tender spot. 

"Are you still feeling drunk? I'm far too sober myself," Dean leaned forward and picked up the remaining bottle of whiskey from earlier, about half left. 

"Yeah I'll take some of that," Sam chuckled, taking a swig after Dean handed him the bottle. 

"Anything else on your bucket list that we could check off before-" The lump in Dean's throat halted his sentence and he struggled to swallow past it.

"Not unless you can transport me to see the World's Largest Ball of Twine one last time," Sam quipped to lighten the mood, letting more whiskey slip down his throat. 

"Shut up." Dean hit Sam in the stomach.

"Seriously though..." Sam sat back, a calm smile spreading across his lips. "No. I just want to sit here, if that's okay."

"Whatever you want, Sammy." Dean slung his arm over Sam's shoulders, flexing his hand into a fist to try to control the shaking. 

They spent the last hours together with the curtains pulled back from the window, watching the sky slowly turn from black to navy until eventually brushes of purple, pink and orange began to paint the horizon. With every passing minute, the brothers held each other tighter and tighter until they were locked into a solid chest-to-chest embrace. Sam's entire body was trembling and all Dean could say was "It's okay, Sammy, it's gonna be okay." 

"Bathroom," Sam finally managed to force out of his mouth, his mind whirling. "Can we just-can we stay in the bathroom?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever you need," Dean shot up and dragged Sam towards the bathroom. Just in front of the door, Sam pulled Dean around and gave him a fervent, final kiss, barely leaving enough time for Dean to open his eyes again before Sam shoved Dean into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Sam propped the fallen chair under the handle of the door, working through the tears spilling over his cheeks as Dean began banging on the door, shouting his name over and over. 

Not like this. Sam couldn't let Dean watch as the invisible hounds dragged him away. He could already hear the bone-chilling snarls just outside. 

Sam sent one last prayer of thanks to whoever was listening up there-because if there was a literal Hell, who was to say that there wasn't Heaven too?

Scrawling as quickly as his hand would let him, Sam wrote his final words to Dean before the window they had been looking out just moments before shattered, glass shards flying. 

 

_I love you, Dean. That's the only thing I'm sure of in this God forsaken place too._

_Take care of yourself, for me._

_-Sammy_  


End file.
